


watch the world burn

by mercuric



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Episode: s04e13 Praimfaya, F/M, Introspection, Raven Reyes-centric, literally just one more praimfaya shot, one more always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 05:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13451817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuric/pseuds/mercuric
Summary: A desperate one-shot compulsively written on May 24th, howling over this one scene that we've all been howling over since, that was never meant to published but eventually ends up so





	watch the world burn

The Ark goes silent. 

Or at least relatively silent since there is no such a thing as silence in space. Raven almost forgot the constant buzzing of engines, the humming of the station's lazy movements, the sound of live support keeping them undefeated. Few minutes ago, she was certain she will go insane from the noises filling her ears in the next hour, not even minding the following five years. 

But now she barely hears them. The noises, the freezing cold air around her, the pain in her spine after a demanding travel, the flames surrounding the Earth seen behind the Ark's window, even the weight in her chest that doesn't get any lighter for five months now – it all tunes out and fades, replaced by unexpected clarity forming in her mind like a slowly burning light. 

She didn't know what made her come to him. She recalled the whisper in her head, asking 'what am I doing?' while she took eight steps from the control panels to the huge window through which he was watching the praimfaya consuming the place they hoped would make their home. It could have been the tension she noticed in his back. It could have been the fact that he was isolating himself already, a few hours after they settled in. It could have been the awful memories of this place she knew he had. And it probably was, a bit of all of those. 

Now that those three words escaped his mouth, she knows it was something else, too. The different kind of concern she unwillingly and unconsciously developed for him somewhere along their way up here. 

Only a moment ago she was standing few feet from him, watching his silhouette against the view of the ending world. Only a moment ago she realized her world was not ending. 

Her world was standing a few feet from her. She would've never thought such a cliché line will cross her mind. Since he showed up in the Becca's lab's door, she couldn’t get him out of her head. Despite repeatedly trying to prove otherwise, he wasn't an idiot. He must have known how much he has risked coming for her. He must have known he could die along the way.

Truth be told, he almost did. 

If he wasn't there for her then, she wuldn't be here now. Therefore, first and foremost, she is obliged to be there for him. And that's what pushed her first step towards him. He saved her. She saved herself first, obviously, but if it wasn't for him, she would be dead by now. Her burnt body would be tossed somewhere in the flames, just like everyone else's who didn't make it into the twelve hundreds of Wonkru. 

Like Clarke's, she thought unintentionally, the moment when she took place by the window, which was most probably why the first words she said to him were: 

"She saved us again." 

She didn't dare to look at his face back then. It was enough that she felt her own getting warm, her eyes watering uncontrollably, with the first glare at the burning Earth's surface. He didn't say anything and she felt her heart sinking at first, until she realized she doesn't know what to say, either. 

What do you say to a person who's watching the world, with their loved ones trapped in it, losing to the blaze? 

She counted to three, before she tried again, her eyes still locked on the glass, barely catching the picture. 

"Think we can do this without her?" 

This time, the answer came with only slight hesitation. 

"If we don't" she heard his voice, trembling from all the emotions she knows he'd prefer covered up, but steady "she died in vain. And I'm not gonna let that happen." 

And then, she found herself speechless, hit by how directly he put it. "She died", echoed in Raven's head. Another person they both cared for, dead. One more beloved face, lost forever. Until they come back, if they ever will, there won't be a tiniest part of her remaining, not even enough for a symbolic goodbye. 

She blinked once, and then several times more, trying to fight back the tears, since they were the last thing they needed right now, but losing. 

He spoke again before she fell apart completely. This time, he was the one asking a question. Just the three words that caused her to raise her head immediately, almost instinctually, to meet his eyes locked on her face, patiently expecting an answer. 

She is close to believing that she misheard him. That her senses are playing her again, the exact same way they did with Becca, the way they did with Sinclair. But she knows the A.I. previously stuck in her head is gone. She knows she wasn't imagining things when she saw him stepping down the lab's stairs. She knows she felt his arms wrapping around her back then and she knows she just heard him speak, seeking reassurance. 

She stares at his face, unable to move her gaze from those huge brown eyes. She recalls the first time she saw them, with the spark he wished she took as a pure loathing burning inside them. Even back then, she saw right through him. She remembers, she didn't see hatred. She saw fear. Fear and desperation, the same as those that have never left his eyes, those that glare at her so openly now. 

But along with them, she sees something that must have been there before, despite her never minding it until their recent reunion. Something warm and soft, contrasting with the determination forged in his facial features. Something she's never seen anywhere else. 

And uncertainty. A whole lot of insecurity to be taken away by her and her herself only. He's been through so much, he's suffered so badly and he's put everything he's ever cared for at stake. For her. And now, he's looking at her, searching for assurance that she knows what he's done. Why he has done that. He's desperate for the confirmation that she indeed that, that they are both here, both at the same page. 

She's more than willing to give him that after she devotes a second or two for the sake of finding a perfect word to express it. And once she does, she's more than certain it will be just enough. 

"Always." 

Her voice sounds unusual even to her, filled with all the things she needs to tell him. And she will. She knows she will, once the time is right. She knows the right time will come. They have plenty of that now. 

His eyes soften slightly after her response. He nodes his head gently, before they both move their stares back to the Earth. 

None of them say a thing again and she doen't feel the need to. The only thing that seems right for her now is moving slightly closer to him. Tenderly, as quitely as her brace lets her, as any firm movement could destroy the silent understanding that was building up- no. That must have always been between them.

That perhaps is between them now, as she feels his body moving closer to her own, her arm touching her on its whole lenght, his finger reaching for her hand, lifting it slightly up so he can hold it without leaning down, squeezing it tightly. She returns the gesture, half-counsiously strenghtening her back, lifting her chin in an intent manner.

They're standing arm in arm, tall and confident, when the first tear falls down her cheek.


End file.
